Battle Scars
by Crimson White
Summary: Caspian was expecting someone older, someone wiser, someone, well, a little more experienced in the art of battle. Can a moment of boys being boys show him just how battle worn the Pevensie brothers really are?


Characters are not mine.

Hope you enjoy.

Crimson.

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Their walk was filled with awkward silence, interrupted only by the crunching of their feet on the forest floor. Caspian could feel the burn of their eyes on his back as he led the two Kings towards the stream in which the men bathed.

He cleared his throat, wincing as the harsh sound echoed around them. He opened his mouth to say something, anything. But -. What on earth was one supposed to say when greeting a legendary King? What was one supposed to say to the men whose momentous reign was the most prosperous and beloved period in Narnian history? _Thanks for dropping in? I was getting worried you wouldn't come?_ Right, that would go over great.

Caspian was wary of these two unknown but clearly deeply loved and respected figures of the golden age. He had no idea what to expect and was slightly thrown that the High King of Narnia appeared to be around his exact age and that the younger King, even with his sharp eyes and quick tongue, was no more than a child. He expected someone a little more experienced in the art of battle to come roaring in and save them. Not these two miniature versions of Kings.

"It's nothing much, -" he started when they reached the stream.

But the younger king, _Edmund the Just_, had already shucked his shirt and run for the pool. King Peter was not far behind. The two whooped as they dove into the freezing waters.

"Ah! S'been ages since I felt this refreshed!" King Peter exclaimed, sinking himself deeper into the water.

"Nothing in England compared!" King Edmund agreed heartily, splashing his brother with gusto.

Caspian thought that the stream was a little too cold for his tastes, but the two boys appeared not to notice the freezing temperatures and had started a rather impromptu water fight.

They didn't look like Kings. That was for sure. They looked rather ordinary. They looked rather young. King Peter sometimes got a look in his eye, sure, and Kind Edmund sometimes said something so profound that it rendered Caspian speechless with reverence, but really they weren't anything special. How was it possible to reconcile these two boys with the legendary Kings of his imagination? How were these two boys the hope and spirit of a nation?

A few minutes later they dragged themselves from the water, shivering and dripping wet, but with wide smiles and laughter bouncing between them. As they neared to where Caspian was lounging against a tree, Caspian spotted a distinct mark on King Edmunds stomach. It was not ugly or disfiguring; rather it was a pale circular scar which puckered slightly from the rest of his skin.

If the tales were true, then that would be where....

Carefully Caspian spotted other distinctive battle marks on the young boys. Around King Peter's left upper arm was a ragged scar which was an odd purple in colour. It stretched right the way around his arm as far as Caspian could see. King Edmund had a rather odd shaped mark on his upper left shoulder. It appeared that some sort of animal had attempted to scratch him to death. From the tip of King Peter's neck to the bottom of his navel was a long thin white line, jagged in some areas; he had been slit open by a sword at one stage.

King Peter laughed at something his brother said and turned around, reaching for his shirt. Caspian actually gasped as his back came into proper view. From Peter's shoulder to half way down his back on his left side was the perfect imprint of an animal's mouth. It appeared something large - like a bear or a wolf - had grabbed him by the shoulder and bit down hard. Each individual tooth mark was still distinct from the other.

Edmund turned at Caspian's strangled noise and saw him gaping at his brother's scar.

"Werewulf." He said. Caspian jumped, not expecting to be addressed and Peter turned back around curiously.

"Same one did my shoulder when I tried to drag it off Peter. He was eighteen, I was fifteen, It was the – which year was it? Um, the fourth year of our reign. Scared everyone silly when the damned thing appeared from nowhere and tried to avenge his queen."

"His queen?" Caspian echoed Edmund weakly.

"The white witch." Edmund supplied. "It's thanks to her I've got this one too." He pointed to the oval puckered scar on his chest. Caspian had been right, that had been where Edmund had been impaled by the witch.

"So, the stories are true? You battled the witch?"

Peter glanced at Caspian's wide eyed stare and grimaced. "Her and others." He pointed to the long thin scar running down his body. "In the tenth year of our reign I was clubbed by an Ettinsmoor giant. Got flung clear off of my unicorn, Flisk – a good friend - and managed to nearly cut myself in two on someone else's sword as I landed."

Edmund shoved his brother, "Lucy had you fine in a moments time." He grabbed his own head and leaned down to show his skull to Caspian. "See the raised welt? Calormene scimitar did that, almost chopped my brain in two, but Lucy said I have such a thick skull that nothing could crack it."

As the two boys jostled each other to show Caspian their scars, he realised that they were proud of their marks. They spoke of each accident or attack with a certain fierce pride in their voices.

"Still nothing compared to my almost amputated arm!" Peter said and showed Caspian the weird purple coloured scar on his upper arm. "Got that fighting pirates on the way to liberate Galma. Axe cut right through flesh and bone, it was hanging on by a sliver, luckily Lu was there to fix me up."

"Lucky _you_ were there, or that arm would have been Lucy's neck if I recall properly." Edmund answered dryly.

He grinned at Caspian and motioned to him impatiently. "Go on then, regal us with your gory tales, you've heard ours."

Caspian hesitated. "I've not been in many great battles. I'm relatively free of scars."

He felt rather insignificant as the two Kings exchanged glances.

Belatedly, Peter laughed. "Don't worry, Narnia will cure you of that soon enough." He eyed the prince. "Unless, of course, you're not the sort to put life and limb on the line?"

Caspian felt a surge of annoyance. "That's not it! I've just led a very – sheltered life."

Peter picked up his sword and twirled it in his hands. The blade rang in the still air. He gave Caspian a challenging glance. "Can you fight?"

Caspian drew his own sword indignantly. "Of course I can fight."

King Peter really was quite intimidating, standing there in nothing but his breaches, his sword pointed directly at Caspian's throat and battle scars very prominently displayed.

The future King and the past King stared at each other. Sizing their comrade up.

There was a dull thwack of metal against skin and Peter jerked, whirling away from Caspian. Edmund danced out of his brother's reach, waving his sword gaily in the air, laughter spilling from his lips.

"Ed!" Peter exclaimed indignantly, rubbing his backside.

"Come on Pete, it's been ages since we sparred!" Edmund danced over the rocks, his nimble feet carrying him surely over the uneven ground.

Peter grinned, forgetting about Caspian and darted after his little brother.

With a clash of steel their swords met. Caspian stood in silence and watched the two boys dance across the ground, twirling and laughing exuberantly.

They were warriors.

They did not hesitate with the strength behind their blows. Rather Caspian noted that absolute trust was placed in their partner to block, in order for their blows not to land vicious cuts. The fight could have continued forever, Caspian could tell that each boy was so familiar with the others fighting style that they came to an impasse.

That was until Edmund tripped over his own feet and landed with a splat back in the cold water. He resurfaced spluttering. Peter howled with laughter.

"Cheater! You backed me to the water on pupose!" Edmund protested, dragging himself, with a helping hand from his brother out of the water.

"Well, you should have watched where you were walking!" Peter returned.

Edmund shook his hair like a dog, spraying the other two.

King Peter reached for his tunic. He handed Rhindon to Caspian for him to hold while he re dressed.

Caspian caught the legendary sword, his breath catching in his throat. He gazed upon the shining steel with reverence. Gently his fingers traced the words engraved upon the hilt. If the stories were true, (and how could they not be, with the scars to prove them) then this sword had seen much bloodshed. It had been wielded in the defence of his country hundreds of years before he had even been born. He snapped his fingers back to his side when he became aware that Peter was staring at him.

"It won't bite." Peter said to him, reaching out a large hand and taking back the sword. He smirked. "unless you're the enemy, of course."

"Well I'm not!" Caspian told him fiercely.

Peter grinned and yanked Edmund's tunic (which was stuck over his head). Edmund scowled at his brother.

Peter grinned at Caspian. "Then, you've no reason to fear us. Come, our sisters will be awaiting our return. Battle plans are to be made."

This time as he followed the bickering and bantering due, Caspian felt a little more secure with letting the two take over his army.

If boys could fight like men, could display scars and re tell tales of conquest and battle, well, perhaps they would have a fighting chance after all.

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I have no idea where this came from. It's pointless, it's plotless, it has no significance to anything. Lol, I was just mucking around and thought I'd post it – why not?


End file.
